Unfortunately Yours: A Novel (Vine Mess Book 2)

Every time things between him and Natalie started to feel right, a snake had to slither through the grass, jump up, and bite him square in the testicles. Swear to God. As soon as her shoulders stiffened, he knew something was up. And he knew he wouldn’t like it.

A significant part of August didn’t want her to confirm the identity of the suited, smiling golden boy in the photograph, because he’d already put it together. Central Park spread in the background gave it away. That fucker with the whitest teeth he’d ever seen was Natalie’s ex-fiancé. They’d just had sex so incredible that he’d heard “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” by the Beatles playing when he came and this was going to ruin it, huh?

“Who is who?” Her question lingered in the air, her eyes zipping to the screen, widening, the glass of water stopping before she could take a sip from it. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

She took a long drink from the glass and set it back down on the bedside table. “That would be my ex, Morrison, and his new fiancée.” Her smile was tight and brief. “I wasn’t internet stalking. Someone sent me the announcement.”

“When?”

Jerky shoulder shrug. “I don’t know, a little while ago.”

It was all coming together now. His stomach pitched first, followed by the scraping out of his chest, leaving it hollow.

No, not totally hollow.

There was a big billow of green smoke wafting in, carrying jealousy on its back. Sticky, grimy, and impossible to escape. “A little while ago, as in, right before you asked me for sex.”

“Asked you for . . .” She opened her mouth and closed it, nose wrinkling up. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

August lunged off the bed to his feet, zipping himself back into his jeans with numb fingers. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

“Apparently I do.” Her voice had grown louder to match his. “Yes.”

Unable to stand the sight of Morrison’s smiling face another second, he crossed to the other side of the bed and closed the lid of the laptop. “You were feeling shitty about your ex getting engaged and I was a convenient ego boost.”

That marked the first time he’d ever rendered Natalie speechless.

And it didn’t feel a tenth as good as he expected it to.

In fact, it felt the opposite of good. It was awful.

She stared up at him for several beats, then seemed to blink back tears while turning her face away. “Get out of my room.”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Deny it.”

“No, you have it completely right. Everything I said about having feelings for you was a big, elaborate lie so I could get some ego-boosting sex.” She stood up and shoved him toward the door, but he didn’t budge an inch. Couldn’t seem to move at all. “Doesn’t that sound exactly like me?”

Nope.

Nope, it certainly did not.

Now she was covering herself with a pillow. Hiding from him.

Apologize. Right the hell now.

“Tell me this isn’t one of the reasons you’re going back to New York,” he growled instead, because he had obviously lost full control of his faculties. The green smoke growing thicker and thicker inside his chest was manning all battle stations. This finance guy was utterly perfect for August’s wife—who he was fucking in love with, by the way—and the whole time they’d been making love, she’d been sad about the asshat marrying someone else.

She’d just turned him inside out in that bed and the possibility she’d been on a different page was eating him alive.

“I am not required to deny anything to you,” Natalie said, lips barely moving. Uh-oh. Now there was a whole slew of snakes gunning for his balls, fangs out. “Nothing has changed between us. The original agreement still stands. We’re in this for the money and that’s it. Now get out of my room.”

His heart climbed up into his mouth and he swallowed it, the whole aching mass of it getting stuck in his throat. “Once I’m out, it’s going to be really hard to convince you to let me back in.”

“Oh, you have no idea, shithead.”

“I’m jealous, Natalie,” he said hoarsely. “I’m jealous.”

“You know what, August? I don’t care. You don’t get to say whatever you want because you’re feeling a particular way. That doesn’t excuse anything. You have to learn to take the information given to you by your brain and stop your mouth from interpreting it first.”

“Because it hurts your feelings.”

“Yes,” she whispered, then seemed to regret it. “No. Out.”

More than anything, he was angry with himself in that moment. Pissed beyond measure. Frustration built higher and higher, any remaining thread of control slipping from his fingers. He couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t make Natalie happy for longer than a few measly minutes at a time. Couldn’t do justice to Sam’s dream. Couldn’t interpret brain shit, either, apparently. What good was he doing anyone?

Giving Natalie breathing room was probably the right thing to do, but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave the room. He simply remained there, an inanimate object with his hand on the knob. No, he couldn’t walk away. That’s what they’d both done at the end of every fight, since the beginning, and it had hurt their relationship every time.

He’d lose her unless something changed.

Her feelings were hurt because of him, and he wasn’t just going to abandon her.

August turned around. “What can I do to make this better, Natalie?”

Her chin snapped up. “Besides light yourself on fire?”

“Preferably.”

“I don’t know, August.” She sighed.

“Tell me how you feel right now.” He ventured a cautious step toward the bed. “That seems like a good start.”

“Mad.” For a second, he thought she might leave it at that, but she threw up a hand and let it drop. “A little empty.”

A hoarse sound left him. And it occurred to him that storming away was definitely easier. This was the hard part. Hearing what he’d done wrong and how he’d hurt her. Was that what made a marriage last? Doing the hard shit? “Why empty?”

“Because I was . . .” She glanced down at the messy sheets. “I let myself trust you and you didn’t trust me back. You made me drop my armor and then, I don’t know, it’s like I’m being punished for it.”

Her words dug into him like slivers of glass. Christ, that was worse than he’d imagined. What would he have learned by now if he’d just spoken to her like this after all of their arguments? He’d be wiser than Doctor Strange. “God, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She laughed without humor. “That’s the thing. I know you’re sorry. I know that so many of your choices aren’t made to hurt me, even though they do.”

So . . . many of his choices?

What else was he doing to hurt her?

He racked his memory bank and came up with nothing. “Natalie, what am I . . .” Out of nowhere, an idea lit up the nether regions of his brain. “I can read you the rest of my wedding vows. Will that make you feel better?”

Was that reluctant interest he sensed? “There was more?”

“Yup. Don’t move.” On a mission now, he jogged through the house, which sent Menace into near hysterics, and barged through the half-open door of his bedroom. Where did he put them? Where?

Bedside table.

August snatched up the yellow, lined piece of paper and ran back out of the room, skidding to a halt a few seconds later at the foot of Natalie’s bed.

He cleared his throat dramatically, but she wasn’t ready to smile yet. Fair enough. He’d be lucky if she simply lost that hollow look in her eyes by the time he finished reading.

Don’t ever hurt her feelings again, you son of a bitch.

“You can call me no matter where you are and I’ll come. That’s where I left off, right?”

She nodded.

Good. He loved knowing she remembered exactly what he’d said at the altar.

“Okay. Natalie Vos, I vow to hug you when you’re sad. Encourage you when you’re down. And take the blame for a fight if it means we don’t go to bed angry.”

“No way.” She snorted. “It doesn’t say that.”

He flipped the paper around and held it out, so she could see he was reciting the vows verbatim. “Read it and weep, princess.”

She glanced at the page, then studied her nails, trying and failing to hide a glimmer of interest. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” He pressed a knee into the bed. Then another. Walking himself closer to her despite the growing stiffness in her shoulders. “If I ever make you cry, you get to give me a purple nurple. Says it right here in bold print.”

“I’m not crying.”

“You were close,” he said miserably. “I hated it.”

“Don’t come any closer. I’m not purple nurpling you.”

“Those are the vows.”

“You didn’t say them in front of God. They don’t count.”

“I just said them in front of a goddess. They count.” He threw aside the piece of paper and tackled her backward onto the bed in a bear hug that made him feel like crying. If he’d left, if he’d walked away after the fight, he wouldn’t have his arms around her right now and that would forever be the wrong choice. He needed to keep his arms around this woman come hell or high water.

When she sniffed a little, he reached for her hand, bringing it up between them.

Pressing her fingertips to his nipple.

“Make it count.” His wife didn’t need the reminder. She secured two knuckles around his nipple and twisted with nothing short of savagery until he yelped, discomfort shooting through his pec. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”

She twisted harder.

“Natalie! SHIT.”

Finally, she let go. And had the nerve to look innocent when he lifted his head to show her his incredulity. “You asked for it,” she said, blinking up at him. Smiling.

He’d made her smile. After a fight.

The bliss of that almost eclipsed his pain. Almost.

“I’m afraid to look down and see if my nipple is still there,” he choked out.

She yawned. “Male nipples don’t really serve a function anyway.”

They laughed and he held her tighter, turning them bodily onto their sides and molding himself around the perfect back of her. “That does it,” he growled into her neck, kissing her soft skin in between each word. “You have to sleep with me tonight. That’s your punishment for trying to kill me.”

“Oh my God.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “I had no idea I married such a big baby.”

“I’m probably bleeding,” he muttered, tucking his knees up behind hers, smiling when she snuggled him back. “We good, babe?” He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Please tell me we’re good.”

Little by little, the tension left her muscles until she was completely relaxed in his arms and his heart constricted in response. “We’re good, August.”

He believed her.

But he also believed his dick/gut and it was telling him they were far from out of the woods. New York was still on the horizon. Not to mention the investment from his CO he’d neglected to tell her about. And earlier, hadn’t she said I know that so many of your choices aren’t made to hurt me, even though they do? Whatever she was referring to, his eyes needed to be more open to it now. He’d do better.

Because he wanted to fall asleep holding her forever.